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by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [61]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cupid - Freeform, Hale family deaths mentioned, M/M, Mention of Claudia Stilinski, Mention of Talia Hale - Freeform, Mentioned Paige, Mentions of Laura Hale - Freeform, Spark Claudia, Spark Stiles Stilinski, mentions of Peter Hale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: Sequel tobowstring.Like other supernatural beings, Derek stays hidden. Before, when his family was still alive, they had times when they were just regular members of the world around them. Most Cupids do have lives that aren’t what their calling dictates, albeit a little more erratic than people with other jobs would have. When the bow calls, there’s no getting out of it, and they have to follow it wherever it takes them.





	1. string of fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not real to the humans that he sees daily. They don’t see him, not when he’s working, when the bow is aiming, or even when he simply doesn’t want to be seen. In the first two cases, it’s for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/451710.html) challenge on Livejournal - amnesty double week. This ficlet's prompt: #1: red.

He’s not real to the humans that he sees daily. They don’t see him, not when he’s  _ working _ , when the bow is aiming, or even when he simply doesn’t want to be seen. In the first two cases, it’s for the best. There are stories that he heard enough of, tales of those before him who revealed themselves to disastrous consequences. Cupids in the past who got arrested or shot at because people saw them as a threat, those who got locked up for insanity.

So, like other supernatural beings, Derek stays hidden. Before, when his family was still alive, they had times when they were just regular members of the world around them. Most Cupids do have lives that aren’t what their calling dictates, albeit a little more erratic than people with other jobs would have. When the bow calls, there’s no getting out of it, and they have to follow it wherever it takes them.

That was how he lost Laura. A call of the bow that she got at an inopportune time, and a hunter who didn’t know of their kind. She’d been in love with him, almost enough to reveal her secrets. Derek wonders sometimes if she should have, or if she’d have been better off staying away from him altogether.

_ “Cupids can find love too, Der-bear.” _

He didn’t believe her then, and he still doesn’t think it’s true. Doesn’t  _ want to _ think it is, despite the length of string around his wrist.

It’s been there as long as he can remember. His Mom mentioned it to him when she held the bow, Peter used it as a trick to lead Derek’s then-girlfriend Paige into a deadly trap, Laura tried to tell him it means that there’s hope of love for him.

When the bow materialised in Derek’s hands, it was the last thing he thought of. It meant nothing in comparison with the knowledge that for him to suddenly be the one with the bow, something had to have happened to Laura. The only other way for the responsibility to change hands was if someone found their own match. It was unusual that someone with a string lit up bright red with the connection to their soulmate would keep up with the Cupid duties.

The only one he remembers was his Mom, who refused -- rightly, as it was proven later on -- to keep it instead of passing it on to the next person. Or rather, she did, for a short time, and it was enough for Derek’s uncle to cause devastation. After Paige’s death, Talia stripped Peter of the bow, and of the ability to ever have it again.

When Derek first got the bow, it was already humming, and he had no other choice but to follow its lead. As time went on, he carried out the matches as the bow required, but because he wasn’t  _ meant to _ be in charge of it, not only did he not think he did that good a job, he also didn’t  _ want to _ do it. Unfortunately, by then most of his family was gone, and short of passing on the responsibility to someone he didn’t know, he was the only one who  _ could _ keep it.

_ Laura was good at it. _

It’s a thought he has often, and it always fills his heart with sadness. He misses his family, his big sister, and when he overhears whispers from other supernatural beings about his failures, he feels even more alone.

Some days it’s made worse by the crowds around him who are oblivious to the man with the bow in his unsteady hands. Sure, he can be visible to humans, but only without the equipment, and only when he’s not on assignment. That only happens rarely, because when Derek is not out to shoot a specific arrow, he stays at home. But some days he lingers in places after he’s finished the current assignment, mostly only because he can’t get away easily enough. The glamour that the bow gives him fades away after a while, and if he’s in a particularly crowded area, it’s not easy to just rush out.

Which is how he ends up at a lacrosse game of the local high school one day. The arrows he shot have connected the local Sheriff and a smiling dark-haired woman who seems to be cheering for a boy on the field that Derek vaguely recognises. It takes a moment before he remembers that the boy is part of the triad that was created only a few days earlier in the school’s parking lot.

Derek, out of curiosity, searches the audience for the other two. Like he’s expecting, he finds them sitting close to each other nearby, the girl holding a banner with the name McCall, the boy looking like he wants to be just about anywhere else but at the game. When the one playing ends up on the bench, Derek follows the movement and notices the glances and soft smiles between the three.

It happens when he looks at the boy sitting right next to  _ McCall _ on the bench. Derek’s eyes slide over in an attempt to not get caught staring, but instead of avoiding everyone’s gaze, his eyes meet whiskey brown ones that are looking at him with curiosity.

“Crap,” Derek mutters, and thinks he should look away a little too late.

Before he can do anything about getting caught, there’s a buzz on his wrist and then on his back where the still invisible bow starts coming to life. There are rules, Derek knows that while he’s being watched he won’t be able to use it, and won’t be able to hide behind its glamour.

But he also knows what the buzzing on his wrist means without looking down on it. He knows that the string that’s been dormant for years has come to life, and is turning blood red while he’s still looking at the boy on the bench.


	2. caught off guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s mind has stalled to a halt, repeating the one word over and over. He’s panicking -- something he hasn’t done in a long time, but he remembers the feeling all too well -- and still can’t look away from the honey-brown eyes that are widening in concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/453549.html) challenge on Livejournal - amnesty double week. This chapter's prompt: #163 - unexpected

_No._

Derek’s mind has stalled to a halt, repeating the one word over and over. He’s panicking -- something he hasn’t done in a long time, but he remembers the feeling all too well -- and still can’t look away from the honey-brown eyes that are widening in concern.

Finally, when the boy he’s looking at blinks, Derek manages to tear his gaze away and duck his head. He’s at a loss about what to do, though. He can’t disappear, there are still eyes on him and while the bow would give him the invisibility he craves, he can’t risk giving himself away. Not in the middle of a crowd, not when it might cause a ruckus and panic.

So he stays. He doesn’t dare to look up again until the people around him erupt in cheers and whooping. With everyone else distracted by the goal just scored on the field, the line of sight between Derek and the bench is broken. He ducks further and slowly slips through the people, then heads towards the forest behind the field. The trees look welcoming with their darkness, and Derek knows that he’ll reach for the buzzing bow on his back the moment he’s completely out of sight.

_What then?_

The thought strikes him out of the blue and almost makes him stop short on his path away from the people behind his back. He knows why the bow is clamoring for attention, he can feel the warmth and gentle tugging on his wrist. If he reaches for the bow, an arrow will react immediately. And there’s only one target that it will look for, not asking for Derek’s input.

He speeds up, intent on not making the decision until he’s given himself room to breathe and think.

“Wait!”

The shout, unlike his own thought, does stop him. He’s still not shrouded in the comfortable invisibility, not hidden from prying eyes. There’s no one else around in his direction, so he can’t pretend that the plea was meant for someone other than him. And it’s the tone in the voice that called out that makes Derek hesitate.

He knows what he’ll see when he turns around, so he does it slowly, with trembling hands and the beginnings of panic.

“Thank you,” a whisper carries from the lips of the boy who caught Derek’s gaze earlier by the field.

Derek doesn’t respond. He waits for the boy to catch up, stands still until they’re only a few feet apart. There’s a flash of light -- tiny, but enough to catch Derek’s attention -- below his line of sight, and when the boy stops, Derek glances down. His eyes widen when he spots the sparks at the tips of the boy’s fingers, blue and purple little stars that fade away before they hit the ground.

“Who _are_ you?” Derek asks, breaking the silence. “ _What_ are you?”

He’s not able to hide the shiver that runs down his body nor the way his voice shakes. The boy isn’t just a regular human like Derek assumed, and Derek’s mind immediately throws up warning signs.

For a few beats he wonders if this is how it ends. If this is how he loses his life, his legacy, his bow. If this was how Laura felt before…

“I’m Stiles. I’m… I’m a Spark.”

Derek doesn’t understand at first. This boy, Stiles, is standing in front of him, _seeing_ him where most people wouldn’t pay attention, looking at him with expectation written all over his face. He has fireworks at his fingertips and hunched shoulders like he’s afraid. Of what, Derek doesn’t dare to think.

Just when he’s about to ask what Stiles’ words mean, a memory hits him. A story that his mother told him once upon a time, one that at the time Derek took for a fairy tale, for something that wasn’t real. It was a tale of a Cupid and a Spark, of love and a connection, a tale with a happy ending.

“I think…” Stiles starts quietly, his fingers curling into fists. “I think you’re going to have to shoot at me,” he finished, glancing over Derek’s shoulder at the bow that’s matching the tremble in Stiles’ voice. “That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

Derek stays frozen in the spot, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again. Because yes, that’s how it normally works. But _normally_ the person on the receiving end of the arrow doesn’t know about it. Nor do they ever see Derek or the bow.

 _Nothing about right now is the way this works_. Derek thinks.

“I don’t know,” he says instead.

“You… but you are…” Stiles says, eyes wide in surprise as he waves a hand -- free of the sparks now -- in the direction of the bow on Derek’s back.

“Yeah, but…” Derek hesitates, wonders how much he can say. “You’re the first person who ever _saw me_.”

The words are heavy with double meaning, with the weight of not only Derek’s responsibility with the bow but also with memories of everything from his childhood until now.

“Oh, that’s weird,” Stiles says, and he glances down on the ground for a moment. “But then, maybe I had to, because you’d have to tell me anyway, right? So it doesn’t make a difference that I see you. I mean, the arrow thing is kind of terrifying, and I’m not too fond of getting shot with anything, but…”

Derek tries to follow the rambling, but his mind is already overflowing with thoughts. Maybe Stiles has a point, maybe it makes sense that whoever is supposed to be on the other end of the string that’s hot around Derek’s wrist would be someone not simply human.

Somewhere in the middle of his musings and attempts to clear his head, Stiles’ words catch up on him and Derek speaks before he can think about it.

“Wait, you got shot?”


	3. hand in hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the first time in his life since the fire that he felt this comfortable with someone, and it’s throwing Derek for a loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/454829.html) challenge on Livejournal - amnesty double week. This ficlet's prompt: #9 - silence.

The conversation stops only when Stiles’ phone chimes in his pocket and they both notice that there’s only silence from the direction of the lacrosse field. 

“Wow, okay, I guess…” Stiles starts, and he gets up off the ground.

They both sat down at some point, not that Derek remembers when, and continued talking about magic, about Derek’s bow, about their families. It’s the first time in his life since the fire that he felt this comfortable with someone, and it’s throwing Derek for a loop. 

“We should…” he says, and stands up too. 

Neither of them move. 

Then Stiles’ phone chimes again, and he pulls it out. 

“Oh,” he says when he looks at the screen. “My best friend, Scott,” he adds as he looks up at Derek. “Game’s over.” 

“Yeah,” Derek replies, and he glances in the direction of the field again. 

“So, what now?” Stiles asks, looking at the bow on Derek’s back again. 

It’s still buzzing, Derek can feel it against his back, but he’s barely paid attention to it as he and Stiles were talking. The warmth around his wrist is still there too, and when he looks down, he can see that the string is glowing. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, with anyone else, I was just there to shoot the arrow and it did the rest. No one ever  _ knew _ it was happening. And I can’t… it doesn’t feel right to just… to even aim at you.” 

Stiles frowns, but he nods in understanding. Then he pockets his phone and holds his hand out to Derek. 

“Come on, I think I know someone who might be able to help,” he says. 

Derek, at a loss about what else he could do, reaches for Stiles’ hand without thinking about it too much. When their palms meet there’s a feeling of content that courses through his body, something he hasn’t felt in years. He lets Stiles lead him towards the parking lot, and only pauses when he realises that the only car left there is a light blue Jeep. 

“I saw your car,” he blurts out, wondering if it means something that he remembers. “A few weeks ago. When I was here to…” his voice fades out and he shrugs a shoulder to bring attention to the bow. “It was the only car left then too,” he adds, because it seems significant. 

When he says it, he remembers what happened after… or in that moment, he isn’t so sure anymore. He glances at the string on his wrist that seems to be pointing to Stiles’ arm now with the fading ends. 

“Huh, interesting,” Stiles says simply, but he doesn’t stop. 

After they get in the car, they don’t talk. Derek is trying to remember when he noticed the red getting stronger on his wrist, because as much as he’s tried to ignore it since then, he now has to admit that the color of the string didn’t just change at the game tonight. 

“What’s this?” He asks when Stiles pulls up at a plain building’s small parking lot. 

“Animal clinic,” Stiles tells him. 

“But…” 

“Come on, you’ll see,” Stiles says, and he stumbles clumsily out of the car. 

Derek follows him, because he doesn’t know what else he could do. There are no lights besides the ones in the street, and it’s only when they round the corner and stop at a side entrance that Derek sees a light inside. Stiles knocks at the door a little louder than necessary, and it opens a few moments later. 

“Heyyyy there, doc,” Stiles says to the man who’s looking at them with a frown on his face. 

“Stiles,” the man replies in a flat tone. “Lesson’s not until morning.”

“I know, I know, but… bit of an emergency here,” Stiles says, and he turns to look at Derek, who’s suddenly feeling the urge to run away. 

“Ah, I see,” the man says with a nod. “Come in then.”

Derek doesn’t question why the vet seems to know who he’s dealing with, nor why he doesn’t demand more information. He just follows Stiles like he did since the plea to stop earlier near the lacrosse field, and they both walk into what looks like a back office of the clinic. 

“So, doc, can you help?” Stiles asks before the door closes fully behind them.

“What is it exactly that you need help with, Stiles?” The vet glances between Stiles and Derek, and then looks down to Derek’s wrist. 

It’s like he can  _ see _ the string there, and Derek’s eyes narrow as his mind tries to find a memory of why a veterinarian could. 

“Okay, introductions first, I guess,” Stiles says, and he sighs, then he looks at Derek with curiosity. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

Since Derek is still looking at the vet, he can almost see the mental facepalm that the man is clearly doing. 

“I’m Derek,” he says then, just to break the awkward silence. “Derek Hale.” 

The two other people in the room freeze, and they both stare at him with surprise written all over their faces. Derek cringes as the room falls into silence again.


	4. it's a choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The touch is barely there, but Derek can feel it more clearly than anything else. His whole body is already attuned to Stiles’ and his arm turns without him meaning to, his hand slipping back into Stiles’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/454991.html) challenge on Livejournal - amnesty double week. This chapter's prompt: #4 - scars.

He’s about to turn around and walk out of the room when he feels Stiles’ hand brush against his own. The touch is barely there, but Derek can feel it more clearly than anything else. His whole body is already attuned to Stiles’ and his arm turns without him meaning to, his hand slipping back into Stiles’. 

“I didn’t think…” Stiles starts quietly, and his hold on Derek’s hand tightens. “Your family is from here, aren’t they?” 

It’s the million dollar question, one that Derek was hoping to avoid while he was in Beacon Hills. When the bow first led him into town, he hoped that it was a one time visit, and that he could go back to pretending like Beacon Hills didn’t exist, even though he stayed nearby. He nods to answer Stiles’ question, but his eyes are turned to the floor. 

“I didn’t realise that Laura…” the vet says, and he stops before he completes the part of the sentence that Derek can’t say out loud himself. “I’m sorry,” the man says instead.

“Did you know them?” Stiles asks, but the question isn’t directed at Derek. 

“I did. And they knew me.”

“Deaton,” Derek says, the memory hitting him as the words reach his mind. 

He looks up at the man, and thinks back on the times when his mother still had the bow that’s now on his back. 

“You weren’t a vet then,” he adds. “Mom used to…” 

“I stayed away from humans back then,” Deaton says. “With your family, and with Stiles’ mother, there was a lot to do, so I didn’t need to blend in.” 

“Mom was a Spark too,” Stiles explains, though Derek doesn’t ask. “Deaton has been training me for the past few years.” 

The ‘ _ was _ ’ doesn’t escape Derek’s notice, and he squeezes Stiles’ hand gently, to comfort him, to show him he understands. 

“It makes sense, really, that this happened,” Deaton says, turning away to a bookshelf behind him. “It’s not the first time either.” 

“What?” Stiles asks before Derek can, but the same question is on his mind. 

“My Mom,” he says instead hesitantly, because he’s not sure if he wants to share the story with either Deaton or Stiles. “She used to tell me this tale about a Cupid and a Spark, and how they found each other. How the Cupid couldn’t find their own match and then it was someone with fireworks at their fingertips that finally  _ fit _ .”

Stiles’ eyes are wide, and his lips part and then close several times.

“You said,” he says to Deaton, his voice carrying a tone of accusation. “You said that’s how you knew I was a Spark, and that her magic was…”

“...in her hands, yes,” Deaton finishes. “And I do believe that the tale Talia told Derek wasn’t fictional.”

“My parents?” Stiles asks. “My  _ Dad _ ?” 

“Was Cupid, though not in Beacon Hills. He moved  _ for _ Claudia, before you were born,” Deaton says, and he opens a book he pulled off the shelf. “He passed on the bow to someone, he never said who, when their bond was made.”

“It was my Mom’s favourite happy ending story,” Derek says quietly while Stiles stares at the open book. 

“Not so happy, in the end,” Stiles whispers, and Derek remembers the past tense that Stiles used when talking about his mother.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Was it…?” 

“Not magic. Well, not because of the bond,” Deaton tells him. “A magic mishap of a different kind. Her power was transferred to Stiles after.”

Finally, Stiles looks up and meets Derek’s eyes. His expression is a mix of surprise and sadness, with a bit of curiosity. He doesn’t say anything though, not before he turns to Deaton again. 

“So, what about this bond,” he says, and he waves a hand between Derek and himself. “Is there going to be shooting involved? Because I’d rather  _ not _ be shot at. Again. Also, there’s the whole question of consent. Does the bond mean that we have no choice? Like, are we stuck with each other? Not that I would really mind, I mean, dude,” Stiles turns to Derek as he says that. “You’re like, a twelve out of ten. But I’m sure you didn’t sign up for all this,” he points at himself.

“No, no shooting necessary,” Deaton says with a smile. “Derek, when he’s ready,  _ if _ he’s ready, will just need to hand the arrow over to you.” 

“That’s it?” Stiles asks, eyes widened in surprise. 

“Well, yes, that’s it for the bond to solidify.” 

“And then I’ll have to… I have no one to pass the bow to…” Derek says, the words coming slowly through gritted teeth, because they remind him of everything he’s lost. 

“That’s not a necessity either,” Deaton tells him. “John gave up his because there was already a family with the Cupid legacy in Beacon Hills, and he wanted to be with Claudia. As you probably remember, your mother kept the bow even after her match. As did several others before her. The choice is ultimately yours, and if you do choose to give it up, we can search for a suitable candidate.” 

“And the arrow…” 

“Is yours until you choose to entrust it to your match,” Deaton says with a glance at Stiles. “The arrows and strings are a hint, not an obligation.” 

In the silence that follows, Derek’s thoughts are screaming inside his head. And even though he only just met Stiles, he’s pretty sure that it won’t take too long before the arrow that’s humming quietly in the quiver on his side finds its way into Stiles’ firework-shooting hands. 

_ But first _ , he thinks,  _ maybe it’s time to be human and get to know him _ . 

“So,” he starts, gathering all the courage he can muster, his eyes studying Stiles’ face. “Would you like to go see a movie?”

He chooses to ignore Deaton’s amused chuckle; Stiles’ enthusiastic nod is all that Derek needs. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
